Ah, the memories!
by Cunien
Summary: *COMPLETED*'Impersonating a cleric of the Church of England...' - remember that? Jack will never forget. Illusive hats, rum smugglers, donkeys and religious confessions! Huzzah for Father Jack!
1. Jack's Hat

** Ah, the memories! -** by Cunien  
**  
This is a little something, work in progress, probably won't turn out to be too long, and will eventually get to the impersonating a clerk of the Church of England thing. I love that part in the film - when they're reading out his list of misdemeanours and general skullduggery - he looks so wistfull when they mention the impersonation bit- which got me thinking.  
  
Disclaimer: This isn't mine - characters later will be mine. I wouldn't want Jack Sparrow to be mine, cos then he wouldn't be Johnny Depp's, and Jack, nay, the whole film, would be nothing withou Mr Depp!  
  
**  
(PS - hasn't been beta-ed - loads of mistakes. But it's not my fault! Don't blame me for Jack's poor grammar and spelling!)  
  
**Chapter 1 - Jack's hat**  
  
Well, it didn't start with a woman, but women were definitely involved. I'm sure that comes as no surprise to you, eh? Women are always in there somewhere, along with gold. And rum. Rum always has a hand in it too.  
  
Now I used to have a woman in every port in the Spanish Main, before my reputation began to precede me. Sometimes more than one woman in each port. Sometimes they were quality stuff, but most often they were strumpets. There are more strumpets in the Caribbean than there's need for. More than you can shake a stick at....funny expression that. I don't think I've ever shaken a stick at someone. I'd much rather just hit them with it. Some of these women, well, I wouldn't mind giving them a little clout with a stick , after what they done to me. Well, shake a stick at them at least, cos I'm no woman beater.  
  
Doesn't stop them from beating me though.  
  
Poor old Jack. I've always been hard done by when it comes to women, starting with my dear old mum. Silly wench up and left when I was...6? 7? Can't remember. But there we go, and I can thank her for making me the man I am today. Probably would have never taken up the honourable profession of pirating if it hadn't been for her scarpering off when I was a lad. And I'm _Captain_ Jack Sparrow now, aint I? Not that you can be much of one without a ship and crew to captain.  
  
I need some more rum...  
  
So, my story, yes....  
For reasons I can't recall, I find myself in Port Royal, which is not a good place to be when you have a large P' branded onto your arm. If I remember rightly this was soon after I had it done to me - still hurt like hell anyway. Us pirates are meant to be barbarians right? Scallywags, ne'er do wells, really bad eggs?  
But I can't think of anything more barbaric than burning a P' for Pirate into onto someone's skin. But see, I'm losing my point again, aint I? You'll find I do that quite a lot.  
  
Now, Norrington and Governor whassisname and all them bigwigs of Port Royal would like you to think that all it's citizens are sweetness and light. Unfortunately they'd be mostly right. Makes my skin crawl just to be there, amongst all those boring do-gooders. All the others, the decent common criminals and humble scallywags, like meself, are thrown in prison, deported or hung. Unless they make sure they aren't caught that is.  
  
Well, the reason I can't recall how or why I was in Port Royal that night was because I'd had quite a bit of rum....to dull the pain of the brand you see. It had also been another one of them scorching Caribbean days, and I'd lost me hat somewhere.  
  
I vaguely remember being on some ship that must have been bound for Port Royal (I'd no doubt managed to barter, bully or blackmail my way on board) and you know, standing on deck in the sun all day without a hat is never a good idea, take it from me. I was a bit narked about losing the it though - it's the mark of a Captain aint it? And I was feeling a little fragile already, having been mutinied and marooned not two weeks previous. I remember noticing I had a black eye and a split lip, which was encouraging - meant I hadn't given up the hat without a fight anyway. At least I knew it hadn't just blown off when I was too drunk to notice.  
  
At this point, I'd like to backtrack a bit. Remember I said these stories always began with women, gold or rum? Well in my case this story was all about those things. In fact, those words really encapsulate my whole life. But the thing that set the ball rolling on this occasion was my illusive hat.  
  
I was sitting in some tavern. It was pretty seedy, but not nearly depraved enough for my tastes. The people inside were the few scoundrels still left in the port, and I felt a little more at home in their company. I was deliberating whether to spend my last few coins on more rum, or save it and buy some bread in the morning. I hadn't eaten in quite a while you see. But the drink was filling my stomach so I wasn't that hungry, and rum had always been my vice. I'd really acquired a taste for it after being stuck on that cash island of those smugglers. Luckily I managed to barter my way on board their ship and was lost amongst the teeming mass that was Tortuga before they noticed quite how much rum had mysteriously disappeared since they'd last been on the island. They call it the angels share' - the amount of alcohol that's lost to evaporation - if I'd been caught I could have put it down to that, at a pinch.  
  
Mind you, the words angel' and Jack Sparrow' aren't words often used in the same sentence.  
  
So anyway, I ordered another rum. Or tried to. First I had to pick my head up off the bar, and then managed to mime and mumble until the barmaid caught my drift. Probably gave me more just to shut me up and stop my wild gesticulating , which was knocking glasses and candles and other objects off the bar.  
  
Rum tasted better than bread anyway. My mother raised me on rum she did. And look at me, I turned out alright. In the end.  
Besides, if I needed actual food I could pilfer some off the good people of Port Royal.  
  
In the early hours of the morning I remember hearing a ruckus over by the door, so I turns around.  
And in walks my hat.  
It's just a plain leather thing, warn and battered. But I tell you, I know every scratch and mark on that hat. That hat it a part of me. Saved my life a couple of times, used in ways I'd rather not go into right now thankyou very much.  
  
The man in my hat came over to the bar - him and his mates ended up right beside me. And I can't stop staring at this man, wearing _my_ hat, bold as you please! I mean, a hat is a _personal_ thing! That one had been on my head for so long I'd half believed the sun and the salt had moulded it to fit me and only me.  
  
So the man in my hat notices me staring, turns and says Wotchoo lookin' at?  
And me, being a honest fellow really, says You are wearing my hat.   
But the man in my hat doesn't take too kindly to this.  
  
Now I'm not a violent person - I won't fight unless there's no other way. But neither am I a coward. Any soul that knows Jack Sparrow will tell you, I don't run away from a fight, I fight fair ( or as fair as a Pirate can be) and I fight damned well. My cutlas' got me out of more than a few unpleasant situations. but there are some times when there's call for a pistol.   
And there's the snag.  
  
There is one shot worth of powder in my pistol, and I don't carry any extra. That shot is meant for one man alone. It's been in there for 10 years. Frankly, by the time I get the chance to use it odds are it will have been in there so long the whole bleeding gun'll blow up in my face. But odds like that are Pirate's odds, and ones I'm willing to take.  
  
The thing is, in the Spanish Main, it's nigh on impossible that a man like myself, in 10 years, will never land himself in a position that calls for a pistol.  
When a sword or cutlas aint been handy I've had to improvise quite creatively I can tell you. But it's never easy. And all on the off chance that I might meet the man who mutinied and marooned me?  
  
The night in question was the first time I had to find some other weapon, bearing in mind I'd only been marooned, forcing me to make the vow concering my pistol, just 2 weeks previous.  
  
Well, the tavern we're in - I told you it wasn't depraved enough - they made everyone hand in their blades at the door. Governor's rules. they said, We'll be shut down if we don't follow them. Had a big guy on the door to enforce the rule too. So when things get messy, and I reach for my cutlas, of course I'm in for a nasty little surprise.  
  
Before I go any further with my tale, I want you to bear in mind that the man in my hat was twice my size, and his mates more than that. And there were 6 of them, and only one of me.  
  
But never say that Jack Sparrow is a coward! 6 to 1. Pirate's odds again see? And I took em.  
  
Before the man in my hat left the tavern, he leaned down and told me how he'd come by my hat.  
I got this here hat from a snivelling, stinking, skulking drunk. Ugly little thing. Curled up asleep on the deck of some ship, dead to the world. Looked a bit like you actually.  
To which he laughed, kicked me in the stomach and left.  
  
I contemplated springing up, jumping on the man in my hat, swiping said hat and scarpering off into the sunset.  
  
Instead, a better plan occurred to me : stay where I lay, sprawled on the tavern floor, and sleep for ever and ever.  
  
I woke up 10 minutes late, when the owner of the bar threw a bucket of dubious water over my poor sleeping form. Never mind! The ground outside looked just as inviting, and was probably a good deal more hygienic.  
  
I came too the next morning with a donkey standing over me, a little too close for comfort. Mind you, a hundred miles from one of them stinking animals is too close in my opinion. Never liked donkeys.  
  
So this one's chewing on something and blinking it's stupid big vacant eyes at me. I realised it was trying to eat my hair. I managed to get it out of the dumb beast's mouth, but not without a fight. Stupid animal. Didn't really help it's case with my hatred of donkeys.  
  
Someone had thrown my cutlas out after they'd kicked me through the door - I found it in a bush nearby.  
Further in the town, I came across a bakers. I hadn't spent my last coins on rum after all, having been thrown out before I got the chance to pay for my last drink. More's the pity. Unfortunately, someone had picked my pockets that night when I was asleep.   
I suspect the donkey.  
  
But luckily, there were some old loaves around the back of the bakery. See, it pays to do a bit of snooping. The bread was stale but otherwise good, probably only put out that morning.  
Obviously the donkey hadn't gotten there yet.  
  
I took a couple of loaves and threw the rest in the river so the donkey couldn't get at them. And then there was nothing for it but to start off in search for my hat.  
  
**TBC....  
  
It's a conspiracy! The donkeys are all out to get him!!!**


	2. Jack finds God

** Ah, the memories! -** by Cunien  
  
**Thanks for reviews! **  
**  
Mild cockney swearing in this, but nothing too bad.  
  
Disclaimer: Jack Sparrow is the property of no man but himself!  
  
  
Chapter 2 - Jack finds God.  
  
**So I took one look up at the buildings advancing up the hill, further from the sea, and decide to stay away from there for now. That big house on the hill was Governor whassisname's, and the whole neighbourhood looked far too respectable for the likes of me. Ooh I hate that word, respectable'. You have to promise to shoot me if I ever turn even remotely respectable, right? Because you understand I can't do it to myself, due to my vow concerning the shot in my pistol, right?   
  
Actually never mind the bloody vow. This is more important - I'd shoot myself.  
  
Anyway, up there didn't look like the kind of place our friend the Man in my hat would let himself be seen. Unless he was up there to steal more hats off the bigwigs of Port Royal. You know, the ones with all the braiding and ostrich feathers and stuff.  
  
So I decide the best place to look would be around the port - in the bars and shops. I asked a few people if they'd seen anyone wearing my hat, but they just looked at me like I wasn't right in the head or something.  
One man called for the Marines, so I scarpered before they could get there.  
Damn Marines - they're always just around the corner aren't they? Always there when you don't want them to be. And what do they look like, in them big white wigs and red coats? Poor sods. Don't know any better I suppose. I've heard the pay is reasonable, but a man can get by on very little these days, take it from me. Especially if he's not too scrupulous about morals and all that. Job satisfaction - that's the most important thing if you ask me.  
  
Anyway, I should have known better than to approach the man who called the Marines. He looked far too respectable. Can't be trusted, see?  
  
So I'm skulking down the main street, glaring at another donkey cos it's giving me the evil eye, when I hear this voice that I recognise from somewhere. I kept on walking till I was standing opposite the road with my back turned to this man. I was pretending to be interested in this little kid's stall, selling beads and trinkets and bits and bobs, but I'm in a position where I can manage a glance back at this man every now and again.  
  
He was tall, with close cropped blonde hair and an ugly perpetually sunburnt face. If ever anyone needed a hat it was him. I knew I'd seen him before, so I racked my brains. Unfortunately they weren't on top form that morning, and nothing came to me. Standing in the mid-morning sun again see? Damned hat thief.  
  
So this man was standing with his equally ugly, rough looking mates. Scurvy seadogs if ever I saw them. He was talking to someone who may have been the tavern owner from last night, though I couldn't be sure. Everyone looks different when you're sober.  
  
The blonde man was saying - about so high. Dark eyes n' hair.  
Hairy bugger. his mate chipped in. The blonde man glared at him till he shrunk behind some of his mates, and then he continued, Long hair, all dreadlocks and braided with beads and the like. Wears a red bandana. Ee's got a beard, braided into two little plaits -   
  
Now so far, this could have been a description of half the men in the Spanish Main. But then the man goes -and he stands like this - to which he screwed up his eyes in concentration, waved his hands around rather randomly and swayed around in the most peculiar way.   
  
He didn't half look daft!   
  
I couldn't think what kind of a man would stand like that. If you could call it standing - it was more like moving while staying still.  
  
So about now I happen to glance down, and beside this kid's stall is a trough for horses and, God forbid, donkeys, and in it I can see a reflection right?  
Now there aren't many mirrors on board a ship, so a man doesn't really become accustomed to his appearance. It came as a bit of a surprise then, when my reflection shows a man with dark eyes and hair, all dreadlocks and braided with beads and the like, wearing a red bandana, with a beard braided into two little plaits.....  
So of course I realise they're talking about me.   
  
Now I'm _really_ racking my brains, trying to place this man. I'm going through a mental list of all the people I'd offended over the years, but still, nothing comes to mind.  
  
I don't know what they meant about the swaying though. I have been told I sway a little when I'm not on board a ship, but I'm sure I don't look anything like _that_!  
  
Still, it doesn't seem wise for me to be hanging around right then. I turned and tried to walk up the street in a nonchalant and unassuming manner.  
But I've not gone two steps before there's this godawful scream, and the boy who's stall I've been perusing is jumping up and down like he's just been stung in the arse. He's pointing at me and jabbering away, and suddenly I realise what he's saying.  
  
THIEF! He stole from me ee did! Bloody thief!  
  
I tried to placate the little whelp, but by now there's nothing for me to do but dive for the kid and try and shut him up.  
  
He was only a tiny thing, just skin and bones really, but he was squirming around so much it was hard to keep hold of him. I had a hand over his mouth but he's still shouting underneath it loud enough to raise the dead.  
  
So I've got this kid wriggling in my arms and I turn around to see if anyone's noticed, while he stops screaming and squirming to catch his breath.  
Of course, the whole of Port Royal is staring at me then.  
  
I grinned, flashing my best winning smile at them - a man can always fall back on charm if he has too.  
  
Ha! Silly lad - we were just playing, you know....  
They all looked at me, disbelieving.  
Cops and robbers? I tried.  
  
And of course here come the bleeding Marines, a whole troop of them, clomping around the corner, and the blonde man and his mates are running at me. Somewhere in the crowd I'm sure I see the Man in my hat smirking, and of course the filthy donkey is braying away like it's having a good old laugh.  
  
Obviously, this situation called for a bit more than charm.  
  
I ran like hell up the street, and there were people screaming and the stupid Marines shooting their muskets at me. Lucky for me they're all godawful shots.  
  
Round the corner I had a few seconds to find somewhere to hide before they Marines and Blondie and his mates catch up. I tired the first door I came to, which happened to be the blacksmiths, and I was rattling away on it trying to get it open in desperation. And that's when I noticed the Church.  
  
My first thought was of all those tales you hear of criminals taking sanctuary in churches while the law is camped outside, unable to get in. Then the criminal sneaks out the back door and runs off laughing like the cat who got the cream.  
  
So I went running for this door, and thank God this one opened. Actually, considering it was a church I suppose I really _do_ have the Maker to thank for opening the door and letting me into his house.  
  
**TBC....  
  
More soon - next chapter - Father Jack'  
  
Thankyou for all the reviews so far!  
  
Rat, Braveheart, CrimsonDestiny, Becky, Kitty the drunken butterfly and Sparkling Pippin - thankyou so much! Not a scurvy seadog amongst you!**


	3. Father Jack

**Ah, the memories! -** by Cunien  
  
**Disclaimer: Jack Sparrow is the property of no man but himself! I take full responsibility for The Man in My Hat though. Not that anyone would want to nick him anyway.  
  
Mild cockney swearing, as befits a loveable rogue like Jack.  
  
P.S. - I know very little about the Church of England, so this chapter is probably riddled with holes. Are there confession boxes in the Church of England. I didn't think so, and neither did my mum, but a friend of mine said there were. I tired to do a bit of snooping on the net but couldn't find much - I read there was confession but not confession *boxes*. Shame, but I've gone with what I could make from my search. Sorry if I'm all wrong!   
  
Please overlook mistakes?   
  
Also, Jack's views on religion are not mine, so please don't curse me to the 7th circle of hell!  
  
  
Chapter 3 - Father Jack.  
**  
Once I'd slammed the door and stopped to catch my breath, I realised I'd still got the kid in my arms. He's stopped wriggling by now, and is just looking up at me in wide-eyed interest, his little legs dangling a few feet from the floor. I cringed. I don't like kids much. Not little tell-tale gits like this one anyway. So I open the door a crack, to check there are no Marines or random ruffians out for my blood about, and then chuck him out the door.  
  
I wasn't sure if anyone had seen me go into the church, or whether they knew about the whole criminals taking sanctuary deal. Besides, the Tell-tale was bound to tell them where I was, so once I'd dumped him I started running again.  
  
Luckily the Church was deserted. Obviously it wasn't a sunday.  
I'm not too good on the days of the week me, when you're at sea they all sort of blend into each other anyway.  
  
So I went tearing up the aisle and turned left behind the whassitcalled, you know, the bit where the priest stands and gives his sermon. There was this little wooden door that I went for, and as it's unlocked so I shove it open. Only for it to come flying back to hit me in the face.  
  
I picked myself up off the floor when I came round, can't have been more than  
a few minutes later. This time I open the door a little more cautiously. Again, it opens half way and then won't budge.  
  
Still, there's enough room for me to stick my head through the crack, and there's this body lying on the floor, stopping it from opening full. I threw my weight against it until it opened enough for me to squeeze through, and then I take a look at the body on the floor.  
  
It's a young man, a kid really, dressed in priest's robes and with a large purpling lump on his forehead like an egg. I reach up to my own head and feel an identical one there. See, we both went for the door at the same time didn't we, and it hit him and then bounced back and hit me.  
So he's lying there dead to the world..... cept he aint dead. I checked.  
Well, an idea hits me then, and it's a risky one but sounds like fun.   
  
So I stripped the kid down to his unmentionables and put on his clothes. I must have looked a sight, especially since I was a few inches taller than the priest and his robes stopped short of my ankles.  
  
Well, I'd already lost my hat, and wasn't planning on parting with the rest of my clothes, so I bundled them all up, took off my bandana and tied them all together so as not to lose them. As I'm doing this though, something falls out of one of my pockets, and I recognise a little trinket from the Tell-tale's stall. Ha! So I did nick something after all! I really didn't notice - the subconscious is a funny thing aint it?  
  
Then I picked up the clerk. Here was a conundrum - I didn't fancy killing him just so he wouldn't give my little game away - especially while he was unconscious. Killing someone while they're in no state to fight back is about as low as..well.. as stealing a hat from an unconscious man.  
  
So, I go over to the window, and outside there's this little road, and coming along it is a cart. It was empty, but it wasn't too long a drop, so I just dumped the priest out the window and he goes thump' into the back of this cart. Poor sod would likely have a bump on the back of his head to match the one on his forehead when he came to. Luckily the wheels were making such a racket clattering along the road the driver didn't even notice the passenger he's just  
acquired.  
  
I turned around, feeling pretty pleased with the way things were going so far.  
But then I hear a door open and close, and realise that someone's just come in from outside. I stood beside the door that led back into the main part of the church and took out my pistol (which I'd managed to hide under the robes, along with my cutlas). And I waited, sure that Blondie or the Marines or both would come rushing through the door at any moment. My plan was to pick them off one by one as they came into the room.  
  
But I waited and waited and nothing happened. I couldn't hear anything - I mean, those Marines are so bloody loud you can hear them coming from a mile off. So I open the door a crack and stick my head out, so it's just my eyes peeping round.  
I saw someone, and unfortunately, they saw me too.  
  
I pulled my head back in quickly and closed the door. They didn't look like a Marine, but they're crafty fellows they are, so I couldn't be sure. It had looked like a woman...... a rather nice looking woman - you know, quality stuff. Not like the strumpets that I'm more accustomed to.  
  
After a while there's a tiny knock on the door, and a timid voice is saying   
Father? Father are you in there? I should like to talk to you, if you could possible spare the time.  
  
Bugger. See, it had sounded like a bit of a laugh at first, impersonating a priest hadn't it? But did I really think that I could pass myself off as a man of the cloth? I mean, _look_ at me!  
  
I just took a deep breath and opened the door. The woman on the other side had been leaning with her ear against it though, so she came falling into my arms, which I don't mind saying was rather nice.  
  
She quickly extracts herself from my arms though, and is all flustered and blushing, and there I am leering away. She _was _ a pretty thing, timid as a little mouse.  
  
she says , Where's Father Dominic?  
  
Well I assume that Father Dominic' is the kid I just deposited in a passing cart, so I said He's gone home, to see his mother. She's sick.  
  
The girl frowned and said, Gone home? You mean, to _England _? I thought Father Dominic's mother had already passed away.  
Ah no. I says, A message just came, from England. She's not dead after all. Recovered....but still very sick.  
Oh I'm sorry. Poor Father Dominic. she said earnestly.  
Yes, and I'll be here for a little while, in his place. I'm Father Jack.  
  
She frowned then, taking in my appearance.  
You don't _look_ very much like a priest, Father Jack.  
  
Er...do not pass judgement on others...for tis only the Lord who can do so. I say. I grinned at her then, but this only scared her more I think, cos of my mouth being full of gold teeth you know. Not many priests have gold teeth I imagine. She took a little step backwards from me, and I stepped forward towards her.  
  
I was once a sinner, and have reformed, devoting my life to the Lord's work. I offered in explanation, clasping my hands to my breast because it seemed like something a priest would do. She still looked wary, but was obviously too pious to think much of it. I find the pious are always the easiest to dupe.  
  
Our appearances, our mortal shells are inconsequential ......my child.  
  
She frowned a little again. I thought it sounded very like something a priest might say. Not that I make much of a point of becoming acquainted with men of the cloth, especially in my line of the work. I suppose the my child' was said in a bit of a lecherous tone of voice, that suggested I was trying to get under that voluminous dress of hers.  
Because of course I was.  
  
They say that the 7th circle of hell is for mutineers and betrayers. Now, I may be a lot of things, but I most definitely am not a mutineer or a betrayer. I always assumed I'd stop just short of the 7th circle, which wasn't too bad if you knew the kind of things I've done in my life.  
  
But then, impersonating a clerk of the Church of England? That was probably worthy of one worse than mutinying in hell's hierarchy of punishable acts.  
  
But I am certainly not the villain of this tale. I'm the rough diamond, the loveable rogue, a man of intrinsic worth but rough manners. No, we all know who the villain here is, don't we? Yes! The Man in my hat!  
The very worst circle of hell is reserved for Hat thieves.  
Hat thieves and donkeys.  
  
I wish to speak to you, Father Jack..... I, I have sinned. The girl looked at me with big blue eyes sparkling with tears. She looked down, modestly.  
  
Please, sit down. I said, indicating a chair beside a rough wooden table.  
  
Oh I was going to enjoy this.  
  
**TBC...  
  
heehee. Sorry. And again, this is not meant to offend anyone - please don't take it seriously.  
  
Thanks again for reviews, especially my Bloody wench! **


	4. Jack's shadow

**Ah, the memories! -** by Cunien  
**   
(Dedicated to Cap'n Cara and the Bloody Wench)  
  
Sorry about any mistakes - I've been reading through the previous chapters and I've found loads of stupid ones that I've over-looked in my eagerness to post!**  
  
**Mild cockney swearing, as befits a man of intrinsic worth but rough manners' like Jack.  
  
Disclaimer: Jack Sparrow is the property of no man but himself! Governor whassisname Swan is not mine either, but any other characters are.  
  
  
Chapter 4 - Jack's shadow.  
**  
It wasn't nearly as enjoyable as I'd imagined it to be - listening to some pious, beautiful young girl's sins.  
If you can call them that.  
  
It was all ooh Father Jack, last night my sister borrowed my dress and spilled wine on it at dinner and I was so angry with her, will I go to hell now Father Jack?   
  
Ha! I felt like telling her about some of the things I've done in my life.  
I felt like telling her about the Man in my hat and the whole sordid tale - then she'd know what sinning _really_ was.  
  
I've never been so bored in my life. Nearly fell asleep by the end - she did go on for hours though.  
  
So there I am, almost drifting off, thinking about rum, when she says something that makes my ears prick up.  
  
- and I feel awful about it, because he's my Father. I couldn't tell this to anyone other than you, because you're a priest and I know that I may trust you Father Jack. But I really think that dealing with these...these..._ruffians_ is not proper for a man of his status. They are illegal rum smugglers and my father is a gentleman! I can't think why he has decided to do business with them, if you could call it business -  
  
Then I remembered where I'd seen old Blondie and his mates before.  
And suddenly there's no way I feel comfortable enough to sleep anymore.  
  
Like I said, they'd rescued me from certain death on that island, and I'd managed to high-tail it before they realised how I'd repaid their kindness. And somehow they'd tracked me all the way to Port Royal. Something told me they weren't going to be content with a stern word and a slap on the wrist.  
  
It all came back to me then. Old Blondie's real name was Samuel Delaney and he was about the meanest bastard you could ever hope to meet. I'd heard tales of him shooting his men for _spilling_ even a drop of rum, let alone guzzling it like it was water.  
  
Of course, I hadn't remembered these tales until I'd done the deed and drunk half the rum on the island. Probably wouldn't have made much difference anyway, cos when it comes to rum there's no stopping me to be honest.  
Well? I'm a pirate aint I? What do you expect me to drink, bleeding milk?!  
  
The girl was boring me to death by now though, and didn't seem to have anything more to tell me about the smugglers, though I tried to prod her for more information.   
  
By the time I'd assured her she wasn't going to go to hell for taking a biscuit from the Cook's tray without asking I was sick to death of her, and managed to get her out of the door. Had to practically shove her out though - never thought I'd find myself pushing a woman away from me!  
  
But before I'd got the door closed in comes this little thing, nearly knocking me over. For the second time that day I found myself with my arms full, but this time it isn't a beautiful but dull girl, but a little lad.  
It was Tell-tale.  
  
Bugger off. I says, turning my back on him and stalking back up the aisle. I wasn't in too good a mood right then, and I really needed a drink. I wasn't sure if they had Holy communion wine in the Church of England, but I'd tear the place apart looking for it anyway.  
  
He didn't bugger off though - I could hear him padding along behind me.  
  
So I whirl around right, and pull my most piratey face and give him an , but he just looks at me in that infuriating, wide-eyed interest again.   
I yanked up my sleeve and shoved my arm under his nose. It wasn't a pretty sight I can tell you - the brand was swollen and had gone a bit yellow and crusty with puss.  
  
Do you know what I am? I'm a Pirate. A Pirate _captain _- we Pirates eat little boys like you for breakfast, savvy? I says.  
Oh, it's way past breakfast time - more like lunch! the lad says cheerfully.  
Oh......shut up!! I spat.  
  
And I hoisted him in my arms, went over to the door and threw him out again.  
  
I've not gone two steps, swearing and muttering to myself, when the door opens again. So I whirled around and said If you don't get ou-ahhh-  
Cos I was expecting Tell-tale, wasn't I? But it wasn't him, but this man and woman, arm in arm. Respectable looking again.  
  
Oh, where is Father Dominic? says the man in this haughty tone that I don't like one bit.  
  
He's gone back to England - apparently the Caribbean air didn't suit him. I said  
  
Oh yes he always struck me as that sort. said the man, Obviously of a weak constitution. He looks down his nose at me, and suddenly I'm feeling quite protective of poor Father Dominic.  
  
I simper at him, barely concealing my hatred.  
  
The man was too far up his own arse to notice.   
  
Oh! I've suddenly remembered I have business my dear! he said, turning to the woman who I assume is his wife. I was meant to meet with Governor Swan 5 minutes ago!  
  
So that's what the Governor's name is.  
  
Anyway, the man kisses his wife's hand in this pompous manner, and says I'll send round a man to escort you home as soon as my meeting is over, it shouldn't take half an hour.  
  
He barely hangs around to listen to the woman's goodbye. Stupid man obviously didn't take too good a look at me did he, because even in priest's robes I don't look like the kind of man that should be left alone in the company of women.  
Because my aversion to anything respectable doesn't go as far as upper class women see.  
  
This woman is quality stuff too. She's older than the pious dull girl of before.  
And this one doesn't look dull or at all pious. She's eyeing me up with a look so lecherous it would rival even mine.  
  
My name is Isobella Edwards. she said in a spanish accent that made me go all goosepimpley.  
  
Father Jack. I say moving towards her.   
  
Hmm... I hope we will become as well acquainted as Father Dominic and I were.  
  
And I'm thinking, good on you Father Dominic!  
  
I have to say I was a bit surprised. It must be that mediterranean hot-blooded thing eh? Cos we've hardly been talking 5 minutes when she launches herself at me and things are going along just nicely thankyou.  
  
Then suddenly I felt as though we were being watched, so I looked up and hit my head against a pew that we must have rolled under in my battle with her corset.  
  
Oh god.. I groaned, because it was bloody Tell-tale again, my new shadow.  
Couldn't you have waited for a more opportune moment, I mean _after_ we've done...what we....were um...  
Although I believe that lads should be told about the birds and the bees at a young age, or better yet, shown, he did seem a bit too young, and I wasn't really in the mood to give him the talk' right then.  
  
Isobella seemed angry about being disturbed before anything really happened, so she straightened her dress, glared at Tell-tale and then me as though it were my bleeding fault, and then with a curt goodbye' walks out the door!  
  
I closed my eyes and rolled back under the pew.   
  
I stayed like that for a few minutes, hoping that my shadow would be gone by the time I emerged. But I opened my eyes and looked over, and there were these little feet in little battered shoes standing there, so I groaned and tried to get further under the pew.  
  
I came to tell you, mister, that them men are still looking for you. They asked me if I seen you but I just says No sir, I aint seen nuffink. He dropped me and ran down the street and I didn't see nuffink.' But then they asked someone else and he said he seen you go in the church.  
  
I tried to sit up and cracked my head on the pew again.  
  
Well why didn't you bloody say so! I yelled, getting up and running down the aisle towards the back of the church. Remember I said those tales always had the criminals running out the back door of the church right? Like the cat who got the cream? So I'm running around like a madman looking for it, but this must be the only church ever to not have a back door of any shape or form.  
  
So there was nothing to do but grab Tell-tale and head for the front door, hoping that my luck would hold and that Samuel Delaney wouldn't be waiting right outside for me.  
  
He wasn't. But I went running into someone else instead. Me and Tell-tale go flying but the other man is caught by one of his mates, cos he's too respectable to be falling around in the dirt.  
  
My little heart sank when I looked up into the face of whassisname. Governor Swan. He was smiling at me in a friendly way. I don't think anyone has ever smiled at me in a friendly way before.  
  
I sprang up and tried to smile too.   
Ah, is Father Dominic not about? he inquired.  
He's gone. I said, bored of this now, He's run away to sea. It seems he wasn't suited for the life of a priest. I said.  
Really? That's a bit of a surprise - he seemed quite happy here.....run away to sea did you say??  
I said, To be a pirate.  
  
Well! That _is_ surprising.... Governor Swan trailed off, frowning at me.  
Are you intoxicated Father?!? says the Governor.  
No I am not! I reply.  
  
But the Governor is looking meaningfully at the Marines he's got flocking around him. He nods and they move towards me right? So I'm there thinking, well, we're out-numbered but not by that much. Me and Tell-tale could probably take them.  
  
But Tell-tale's scarpered, hasn't he - the bleeding traitor.  
  
I said, For once I am not bloody drunk!   
But they just kept coming at me, and the Governor was smiling at me in gentle reproach.  
  
Now Father, I'm sorry but we must make and example of drunk and disorderly citizens - even a priest is not above the law.   
He turned to his Marines. Luckily none of them seemed to have borne witness to my little escapade this morning.  
Take him to the jail - he can sleep it of in a cell tonight. The Governor smiled at me again as though I was a naughty schoolboy.  
  
Well I didn't go without a fight. They had to drag me kicking and screaming to the jail, which I admit probably didn't do much to convince them I was actually sober.   
  
So I find myself lying locked up in this cell in Port Royal, and not for the last time either. There's someone else in there with me but by now I'm so exasperated with my rotten luck that I can't be bothered to look who it is.  
  
I can't think why they thought I was drunk. I suppose the little swaying thing I've been told I do might look a bit as though I've had some to drink.  
But the funny thing was I _was_ actually sober. For a change.  
  
**TBC...  
  
More soon, but the next chapter will probably be the last - we'll see how things turn out. This is already turning out to be longer than I thought it would be!  
Thanks again for the lovely reviews - especially to those who've added me or this story to their favourites list - it's a great honour!   
  
Thankyou -  
Bloody Wench, A Wolf in Cairo, Marie6, Onua Wingstar, Kitty the drunken butterfly, Braveheart, Kumiko *Kaylin* Eharu, Sigil, Seraphim,  
Fidin, Rat and anyone else I missed!  
**


	5. Jack Does Time

**Ah, the memories! -** by Cunien  
**   
(Dedicated to Cap'n Cara and the Bloody Wench)  
  
Well this isn't the last chapter after all - turns out Jack has a bit more tale to tell. Believe me, when he gets going it aint half hard to shut him up!  
And now his cockney-ness is rubbing off on my so I better get on with the tale, right?  
  
Mild cockney swearing as befits a scruffy looking nerfherder like Jack Sparrow.  
  
Disclaimer: Jack Sparrow is the property of no man but himself. I own Tell-tale, the Man in my hat and Samuel Delaney. More's the pity.  
  
Calico Jack was a real historical figure (more about him at the very end of the tale).  
  
Chapter 5 - Jack does time.  
  
**Well I felt pretty stupid right then. I'm no stranger to prison cells I can tell you, but this was probably the first time I'd been locked up in one for doing absolutely nothing wrong.  
  
Well, I say that, but so far I had done quite a bit wrong - but Governor whassisname wasn't to know that, was he?  
  
As soon as the guard turned the key in the lock and strolled off looking very pleased with himself, I fell back on the straw strewn ground and groaned.  
A pirate's life for me eh?  
  
So I'm lying there, counting everything that had gone wrong and balancing it up with all the things that had gone right, you know, trying to convince myself that the day hadn't been all that bad. I mean, I did _almost_ have my wicked way with a beautiful spanish noblewoman, didn't I? See, these respectable married women can't resist a bit of rough on the side can they? And I'm normally more than happy to offer my services where that's concerned.  
  
I was just remembering rolling around under them pews with Isobella with a little smile on my face when a voice cuts clean through my reminiscing.  
  
Alright, Jack?  
  
The voice didn't sound like it had come from someone who wanted to throttle me for some reason or other. It sounded quite friendly actually.**  
**I raised myself up on my elbows to get a look at whoever it was who'd spoken. **  
  
**As it turns out this particular person had good enough reason to want to throttle me, but Calico Jack had always been the kind of person too stupid to hold grudges. Or even realise there were grudges there in the first place.**  
  
**Alright Jack? I answered. So what you in here for then?   
Same as you mate, drunk and disorderly. Calico answered. Now I always address him as Jack' , but where this tale is concerned it might be a bit less confusing for me to call him Calico' to you, right? He was called this due to his always wearing the most stupidly fancy and outrageous clothes. Man looked like a bleeding walking rainbow - it hurt your eyes just to look at him. But I think he fancied he looked like a right dandy.  
  
Looked more like a big girl's blouse to me.  
Which he was, in all honesty. Nice chap though, if a bit stupid.  
  
Me and Calico went way back - to when I was a humble cabin boy on this big old schooner called the_ Selkie_. Calico used to have a good old laugh at me, always ordering me around and thinking himself so much better than me. Truth was he was only one up from me, and one up from nothing isn't that much at all. From this rather shaky beginning grew an easy and amiable friendship.  
  
So you looks like you've had a bit of a career change since last we met Jack? Calico asks, eyeing up my priest's robes. So I explained the whole sorry tale to him. He's a good listener, tutting, gasping, swearing and laughing in all the right places. Not like you lot.  
  
Anyway, there we were, chatting away, and I asked him what he sails on now, cos he's a captain like me.  
  
Oh I'm on this Dutch Flute now. He said with understandable pride.  
I whistled.   
I'm guessing from your blank expression that you don't know what a Dutch Flute is, right? Well, it's a monster of a thing - 300 tons and 80 feet, but only takes a crew of a dozen, 10 at a pinch. A pirate's dream is a Dutch Flute - massive cargo capacity see? Lot's of room for treasure.  
  
Yeah, just _acquired_ her I have. The _Adventure._ She's a beauty Jack.  
Well I hope you've left this beauty in capable hands - you're a fool if you haven't Jack.  
Ah, don't you worry about that Jack. My first mate Andrew'll keep her in ship-shape till tomorrow.  
  
I asked.  
Yep. I'll be out of here in the morning, an we're sailing, 10 o clock sharp. Not too early, I likes me breakfast in bed! he laughed.  
  
Here, listen Jack - you don't have room for an able seaman do you? Soon as I get my hat back I'm going to need to be out of there pretty sharpish.  
**  
**There's always room for a friend, Jack. said Calico kindly, Like old times, eh? Just until you get the _Pearl_ back, o course. Heard about that, mate - rotten luck.  
  
I'm nodding darkly, cursing my treacherous first mate who marooned me to a hell on earth, when there's this racket over by the stairs, and this little ball of rags comes tumbling down. He springs up when he hits the floor, grinning like a bleeding maniac, and I see it's Tell-tale.  
  
Well, my shadow has his uses after all. He came skulking over. He could almost skulk as well as me. He was obviously trying not to wake the guard, who was asleep in the room just off from the cells, but to be honest if the hullabaloo he just made falling down the stairs didn't rouse him I don't think there's much that would.  
  
So over in the corner, curled in this manky little basket is this mangy little puppy, with a bunch of keys lying beside it. Tell-tale goes over and carefully extracts them from between it's paws, and then looks as pleased as can be.  
He tripped and dropped the keys with a clatter on the way over, and we all held our breath as the guard shifted in his sleep, but he didn't stir again, and Tell-tale got the door open easy as that!  
  
Once the door's swung open and I've stepped through to freedom, I turned round to see that Calico hasn't moved an inch.  
  
Close the door behind you, eh Jack? he says. He's lying back on the floor, and I says, Aren't you coming then Jack?  
he answered, They'll let me out in the morning, and I've got no place better to be till then. Besides, there are some shady characters out there. Out for my blood they are. This is the safest place to be.  
  
Have it your way Jack. I said, I'll see you tomorrow - 10 o clock right? The _Adventure_?  
  
10 o clock. Don't be late Jack, cos I aint waiting for you. You better be there, hat or no hat.  
  
I nodded and was halfway up the stairs when this voice drifts up,  
Oh and Jack? Good luck eh? A main aint nuthing without his hat.  
  
Once we'd got outside, which was alarmingly easy really, we find some bushes to skulk in, and Tell-tale the little angel, hands me the bundle of clothes I left in the church. I ruffled his hair. And then wiped my hand on my robes.  
  
I changed back into my old clothes, feeling a bit more myself, but missing the robes a bit too. I liked a nice breeze around me privates.  
  
**TBC.....  
  
**  
(Right, Calico' Jack Rackham was a real bona fide Pirate - some stories say his name came from his colourful clothes, which is the version I've gone with here. Others say it's because he always wore clothes of plain white calico. Which makes more sense. But doesn't fit in with my masterplan. So there!  
Calico Jack fell in love with a woman called Anne Bonny. She dressed as a man and went to sea with him. They picked up another cross-dresser on the way, Mary Reid, quite by accident. When they finally got caught Calico Jack and the rest of the men hid in the ship's hold while Mary and Anne fought like men! They were eventually all sentenced to hang, but Mary and Anne were set free as they were both pregnant! That's your history lesson for today kids.)  
  
**  
Sorry about the dullness of the chapter. I promise the next chapter -**  
**the last one, I think, will be more interesting!**  
**So, will Jack find the Man in my hat, and win back said hat in time to catch his ride out of there the next morning?   
  
Thanks for reviews - you make me smile sooo much! (Thanks to Kris for pointing out the mistake - shall be changed soon!x)**


	6. Jack's best plan ever

**Ah, the memories! -** by Cunien  
**   
(Dedicated to Cap'n Cara and the Bloody Wench)  
  
Yay! I'm writing this in celebration after getting my A-level results yesterday - the reason why there have been no posts for a few days.   
Right, well Jack assures me this is the last chapter, but you never really know with him.  
  
Mild cockney swearing as befits a...well, a Pirate.  
  
Disclaimer: Jack Sparrow is the property of no man but himself. I own Tell-tale, the Man in my hat and Samuel Delaney. More's the pity. Calico Jack was a real historical figure.  
  
Chapter 6 - Jack's best plan ever.  
**  
By now I'm getting pretty desperate, seeming as I only have roughly 17 hours to get my hat back. May seem like a long time to you, but Port Royal is a big place, and that's assuming the thief was still hanging around. He could be anywhere in Jamaica by now. Anywhere in the Caribbean.  
  
So I put down the resulting fiasco to my desperation. I went and did something stupid instead of waiting for the opportune moment like I knew I should really. But it's funny how things work out in the end.   
  
The first place I started my search was the harbour, but making sure me and Tell-tale skulked in the shadows so as to avoid any unpleasant confrontations with Marines, Rum runners, Governor whassisnames or Priests.  
  
When we got there I sent Tell-tale off to scurry around town and see what he could find out. We were to meet back at the harbour later, where we would be less conspicuous amongst all the comings and goings.  
  
Then I tried to snoop out all my old contacts. When you come and go as much as I do you meet a lot of people. The ones that I don't leave wanting to kill me almost always turn out to be loyal, and most of all useful, friends.  
  
So I dug around a bit, asked some questions. Got very few answers. Now this was just after Whassisname had become Governor - fresh from England he was. But he'd brought with him that Norrington fellow and a ship-load of other young, alert and horribly efficient Marines.   
  
Alas for my contacts. There were hardly any of them left. Most had been driven out of Port Royal, some disappeared, some hung and one or two turned respectable' - of course I had not time for _their_ type now.  
  
But there was one I managed to find and get some details out of. His name was Nicholas something or other, but everyone just called him The Admiral. He seemed to have been alive longer than was humanly possible, but these old seadogs tend to hang around for years - stubborn as mules. Not donkeys. Mules.  
  
So everyone thought The Admiral was blind and dumb and deaf, but that was just for the people he didn't know or like. See, you can't answer any awkward questions then, can you? It can't possible have been you that stole all them Marine's uniforms from the barracks laundry, if you can't see. It isn't possibly that you heard where that thief was going to hide that swag if you can't hear, and there is no way that you told that Marine to Bugger off you stupid girl!, because you can't talk, right?  
  
When you get to know The Admiral, treat him kind or do him a favour here and there, he'll tell you things, very interesting things.   
Because he's just an unassuming old man. No one ever notices him, and that's why he notices everything. But The Admiral used to say that he must have had a gypsy mother, cos he'd only stop being a deaf and blind mute when you crossed his palm with silver right?  
  
Well, it didn't always have to be silver - sometimes, if you had an interesting bit of hearsay or blackmail worthy information, he'd swap you something for it.  
  
But see, The Admiral owes me some favours, because I've saved that wrinkled old hide of his a couple of times, and now I want something in return.  
  
For you Jack, anythin. he muttered, smiling toothlessly at me. I seen that man, and I saw something weren't right with him straight away. I says to meself, that's Jack's hat that is, and I followed him back last night to the Ship and Castle Inn.  
  
I thanked him, and in return, even though I didn't owe him anything, I told him about little Miss beautiful but pious and her fathers doings with them smugglers. And then I threw in Isobella's having her wicked way with young Father Dominic, because I was feeling generous, you know.  
  
Well, The Admiral had really outdone himself this time. I made my way up to the Ship and Castle, looking for the Man in my hat. I didn't find him there though. On my way up the little slope to the Inn, I saw a familiar figure coming down towards me.   
  
The Man in my hat walked right past me, obviously not recognising me. It was getting dark by now, and a sea mist had drifted in, so there was no moon and very little light.  
But I knew him. Even on that dark night I'd recognise my hat anywhere.  
  
So I turn around right, and walk after him. As I said before, he's a bit bigger than me, so he's got longer legs, and I'm running to try and catch up with him. Well he may have been big but he can't have been too bright, because he didn't even notice me running up behind him.  
  
But then he turned around and I wish he hadn't noticed me at all. I realised then, too late, that stealth would really have been the key in this situation.  
  
I should have skulked really, shouldn't I?  
  
Anyway, he turned around and I couldn't stop running, cos we were on a little slope and I'd built up a bit of momentum right. So I ran straight into his fist. Which wasn't nice I can tell you.   
  
I tried to pick myself up, but the Man in my hat did the job for me and got a hold of me by the scruff of my neck.  
He really was a _lot _ bigger than me.  
And in my defence I did manage to punch him. But that only made him angrier, I think.  
  
Obviously by now he's recognised who I am, which makes him punch all the harder. And as final insult, while I'm lying there momentarily stunned, he takes all my blimming clothes doesn't he?  
  
Bastard.  
  
And then, as a final _final_ insult, he puts them all on, even though they're way too small for him.  
  
_Bastard.  
  
_So there I am, naked as the day I was born, watching the Man in my hat and now the Man in my hat and all my clothes walk away laughing to himself like christmas has just come early.  
  
Well, he may have thought he'd won, but there's one thing he'd forgotten, wasn't there?  
  
_I_, am Captain Jack Sparrow, and Captain Jack Sparrow knows no shame.   
The human body is a beautiful thing, and I'm not ashamed of mine at all.  
  
I was just a bit cold to be honest.   
And worried that I was going to get caught by more bleeding Marines and arrested.  
For exposing myself, you know.  
  
The funny thing was, watching him walk away on that misty and moonless night, he really could have been _me_. I mean, he was bigger than me mind, so my clothes looked a bit daft on him, and his hair, though the same colour as mine was a bit shorter.........but, in the dark, to someone who didn't know me all that well......  
  
An idea hit me then. Now, in all my years, I've had many a canny idea. But this one had to top them all. It was probably my best plan ever.  
  
I called for Tell-tale. I knew he'd be around there somewhere, and sure enough he emerged from the bushes a few seconds later.  
  
I have a cunning idea. I said  
Tell-tale squatted beside me, nodding eagerly.  
You said you'd spoken to them smugglers, right? They asked you if you'd seen me?  
And I said No mate! Never seen Tell-tale said, obviously chuffed with himself.  
  
I says, patiently, And they said they'd pay you 3 shillings if you came back to them with any information?  
  
Tell-tale nodded again, still grinning from ear-to ear.  
  
So hours later I'm in some bushes again. Different ones from last time though. These ones are outside the tavern I got thrown out of the other night.  
I'm still in me birthday suit.  
  
Tell-tale told me he'd seen the Man in my hat and clothes go in here, but I'm beginning to worry now, cos we've not seen hide nor hair of him yet.  
  
Tell-tale waited outside right, in the shadows with the rum smugglers, a shilling in his sweaty little hands and the promise of 2 more once they've got me.  
  
But they aren't getting me, are they, cos about quarter of an hour later it's not me who comes staggering out of the tavern, clutching a bottle of rum and singing What shall we do with the drunken sailor' at the top of my voice, is it?  
No, it's the Man in my hat and clothes who looks a bit like me now and who's had so much rum he's beginning to walk a bit like me too.  
  
The smugglers don't give him a chance to tell them they've got the wrong man.   
  
They come swooping out of the shadows and I can see Tell-tale has a grin on his face to match mine. The tavern owner sticks his head out the door at one point, but seeing what's going on he shuts the door and pretends he hasn't seen anything.  
  
So they're shouting Thought you could get away with drinking all that rum eh? Thought we were too stupid to notice did yeh?  
  
After they've finished and the Man in my hat (actually my hat's been knocked off his head by now) is lying moaning on the floor all black eyes and bruises, Tell-tale runs over and gives him a little kick.  
  
My heart positively swelled with pride then - you would have thought I was his bleeding father or something!  
  
The smugglers laughed and gave him his 2 shillings plus 2 more, cos I think they took a shine to him.  
  
So once they've cleared off and I'm sure they're not coming back, I go over to the Man in my hat and clothes.  
  
I tut-tutted and shook my head at him, though he was dead to the world at that point. I took back all my clothes and my hat and gave him a little kick, just for the sake of it really. He didn't look so big and tough anymore, and I felt more pity than anger. I mean, what kind of life must he have led, to reduce him to the depths of stealing hats?  
  
Scabrous bilge rat nearly tore holes in my boots, which were about two sizes too small for him anyway.  
  
I felt great once I'd got my clothes back again.   
I picked up my hat and put it on.  
  
I felt like I could take on the whole world.  
  
At about half 10 the next morning, I stood on the deck of the _Adventure_, fixing the rigging up proper and trying to sort out the yardarm which those fools of a crew had made a mighty mess of.  
  
The mist had cleared and given way to another beautiful but bloody hot Caribbean day. I smiled though, cos it didn't bother me. I had my hat now, didn't I? Anyway, even though we were only about 2 miles south of Port Royal, hugging the cliffs, it was still a lot cooler out here.   
  
There was a stiff sea breeze, and every now and then we'd hit a wave and go reeling up then down again in that wonderful topsy-turvy rhythm of the sea.  
If you aren't accustomed to the sea you go staggering sideways, so it's easy to spot those new to the honourable profession of sailing, let alone pirating.  
  
Well, we were just lolling sideways, and I'd just tied fast the mainsheet, when this ball of rags goes rolling past me. I put out an arm and grab this thing, and of course it's my shadow, grinning up at me, the little stow-away.  
  
I threw him overboard.  
  
Don't worry - do you think me so heartless that I'd chuck a little lad into the sea without checking if he could swim first?  
  
The last thing I saw of Tell-tale was this little head, which was mostly all smile, waving maniacally at me as he bobbed back to shore.  
  
Now don't look at me like that! It wasn't far to the cove we'd just passed!  
  
Whenever I put into port one of the first things I do is dig out my connections, The Admiral being among them. The hearsay is that Tell-tale's on some Pirate frigate as first mate, which isn't bad going considering he can't be more than 20.  
  
It makes me feel good, you know? He would probably have never taken up the honourable profession if it weren't for me. He would have remained a street rat and not lived past 15. Now he can enjoy a life expectancy of about 25, average.  
So I feel I've done my good deed now.That's it. I'm all spent. Don't be expecting anymore from me.  
  
So I ask after him whenever I can, see what he's up to. Sad when they've flown the nest aint it?  
  
So. That's it, and don't give me that At last!' look.  
I've come to the end of my tale, and let it be a cautionary one at that. There are lessons to be learnt here....... but maybe you could give me a shout when you find out what they are eh? Cos me, I don't have a clue.  
  
Na-nan-na-na-na-na-na-na-nah.........................and really bad eggs............. .....drink up me hearties yo-ho!  
  
**THE END.  
  
Sorry for the last line - I just couldn't resist .   
(Especially for Cap'n 'you got to find yourself a girl mate' Cara)  
  
Oh! I'm really sad this is finished now! Never felt like this with a fic before - I'm usually gald to have them out of the way and on to the next one!  
I had so much fun writing this that I'm *considering* doing another - humour or maybe something more serious. Or as serious as you can be concerning Jack Sparrow. I have a few little ideas, again from little lines mentioned briefly and that I'd love to pick up and run with!  
Any suggestions though? Ideas? Do you think I should, or are you all shouting No!Oh, oh God no!? Email me if you want.  
  
Thankyou so much for encouragement and reviews!  
Cunien.x.x.x. **


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